


The Cane-Wielding King

by writeranthea



Series: Les Illustrations du Marquis de Sade [1]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beating, Caning, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Mild Blood, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Sadism, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-16 05:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21502777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: A short take on how the Marquis de Sade and Friedrich Wilhelm I of Prussia could've engaged into a sadomasochistic relationship that would've stood second to no other. Or: historically inaccurate and self-indulgent porn wrapped into a very thin blanket of plot.
Relationships: Friedrich Wilhelm I von Preußen | Frederick William I of Prussia/Marquis de Sade
Series: Les Illustrations du Marquis de Sade [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554694
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	The Cane-Wielding King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwanFloatieKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanFloatieKnight/gifts).



> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> A/N: I posted this story on AO3. If you see it on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to it.

**1737**

When Donatien had first left Paris for his year-long journey through Europe, a stay at the Prussian court had not been what he had planned. Having turned nineteen and thus being old enough to set out on his own, the royal courts that had been in his interest were those he had heard the most lavish of stories from. Starting in Versailles he had set out, inter alia, for Stuttgart, Munich and Kraków with Vienna as his final destination. It had been his plan to travel back to Paris from there, a plan that had been interrupted when he, for him out of the blue, the offer to act as temporary representative for His Majesty the king of France in Prussia. Donatien had accepted the offer that many noblemen would have fought each other over without a moment of hesitation, very well aware that it could be the chance of his lifetime, and thus had went en route for Potsdam instead of Paris.

His initial anticipation about the role he would be playing, however, had been gone even before the first day had passed. While he had heard certain _rumours_ about the court that had established itself ever since Prussia’s first and ostentatious king had died, he had not expected them to be true. But they were; what the royal courts of Versailles, Stuttgart and Vienna had in abundance Potsdam was lacking down to the very last ounce. Even the room that he was staying in was furnished with little more than an alcove bed, a writing desk and a chest of drawers for his belongings. There was as good as no art, no splendour and none of the fine court life that Donatien had gotten to known and love in the course of the past months.

All in all, it was a very lifeless court that stood in a stark contrast to the monarch who ruthlessly reigned at the top of it. Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia did not stand second to any other king in the neighbouring lands, feared by his ministers and servants as much as by his own family, heartless enough to sentence his son’s friend and lover to death and have him beheaded in front of his son’s eyes. Friedrich Wilhelm was not only and brutal, feared and hated, but a difficult man to work with as well. With the Louis of France’s wishes for his stay clear, Donatien knew what he had to do: improve the relationship between France and Prussia, which was an almost hopeless goal to aspire. It was known that Friedrich Wilhelm not only disliked, but _detested_ anything that was French.

From the food to the music, the art and the literature, the people or the politics - anything French could easily trigger the notorious king of Prussia’s anger and Donatien, his order clear in mind, had tried to stay as inconspicious as possible. For the first two weeks or so, he had even been lucky enough to come into the company of Friedrich Wilhelm not more than a single time when he had needed to introduce himself to the king. Donatien had held his head bowed and his hands behind his back as he had spoken, offering a perfect image of subtile submission through which he had hoped to reach his political goal, but Friedrich Wilhelm had not done more than grunt in acknowledgement before he had dismissed him. It was anything but a surprise that Donatien had neither thought much nor highly of the Prussian, about whom most of the whispered conversation at court had revolved around.

No, he had not spared a second thought to him and it surely would not have changed if he would not have been a witness to a scene that he never would have expected to see. The second time that he had met Friedrich Wilhelm, he as well as the other ambassadors and representatives had been called together for a meeting. Seated at the far end of the large table and next to a low-rank minister, Donatien had waited. It had not only been him who had flinched when the door had suddenly been thrown open and Friedrich Wilhelm had stormed in with a grim look on his face and his cane, which was just as notorious as the king himself, clenched in one hand. While it may not have only been him who had flinched, it had definitely only been him who had needed to swallow down his suddenly very dry throat when Friedrich Wilhelm, unsatisfied with the drink that he had been served, had grabbed the manservant by the collar of his shirt and had smacked him across the face.

The hit had been loud enough to resound throughout the room, though its loudness had not been the reason as for why Donatien had flinched and he had been uttermost embarrassed by the fact that he had known that his reaction had been based on anything but fear. He had been jealous. The manservant had not enjoyed the abusing force of the king’s hand that had left a bright red print on his cheek, of course he had not, but Donatien had yearned to be able to feel it.

It had been a realisation of which he had no longer been ashamed of per se, considering that he had known of his... _interests_ ever since he had been old enough to share his bed with another. While he had known what he had desired and yearned for years, he yet had to experience it for the first time - not a single one of his past lovers had been able to give him what he had really wanted. When Donatien had retreated to bed that night and had allowed his hand to wander down underneath the covers, a wave of shame had moved through as he had recalled the image of Friedrich Wilhelm’s beating the manservant in front of his inner eye and had imagined himself as the one being beaten. The shame had been too weak to prevent himself from getting aroused, and neither had it prevented him from coming harder than he had in a long time.

More than a week had passed since then and not a night had went by during which Donatien found sleep without having pleased himself to the memories of that short, specific moment. Muffling his moans into the pillow, he would search and eventually find the sensitive spot inside of him and while it had merely been the resounding smack that had pushed him over the edge, it had slowly shifted to being Friedrich Wilhelm in his complexion.

Oh, how embarassing it was! The king of Prussia was anything but the type that Donatien usually favoured. Friedrich Wilhelm was not even a head taller than him, rather plump and without a pretty face but _good God_ , what he would give to feel him once!

Since he was no longer at the court of Versailles or Vienna, where two men could enjoy themselves without being titled as sick in the head, Donatien was extraordinarily careful about keeping his desires firmly hidden away. Not only did he fear the consequences that could follow if his... unnatural desire would be discovered at court, but he was so uttermost ashamed of believing to have found what he desired in Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia that he most likely would have died from embarrassment if anyone would have found out. No, he wanted to avoid that at every possible cost and the fact that he would not be forced to stay in Potsdam for much longer did make it a bit easier. Once he would be back in France, Donatien would find someone to share a bed with.

 _As unexpected as it only can be_ , he had written in a letter to one of his dearest friends in Paris, _I found myself bound by a spell casted by the person I have least would have believed it and as most spells are, it is not a good one. Dark and brooding, waiting for the right time to cause an eruption that I will never be able to control and making me wish for an early return to home._

He sighed as he fixed the last button of his waistcoat in the mirror. Emerging himself into the bit of court life that was permitted under the parsimonious king of Prussia prevented Donatien from thinking and, most importantly so, from _yearning_. He was very much aware of the fact that what he desired was dark, very dark and may appear insane but oh, how badly he wanted to feel the _pain_. To be hurt, maybe even against his own will, was one of his most urgent desires, one that he would have failed to explain to anyone that would have asked him about it and as little as he understood why those desires raged inside of him, he could fathom as for it had been Friedrich Wilhelm in which he saw his salvation.

The majority of the guests had already come together in the salon by the time that Donatien got there, and his presence thus went as good as unnoticed when he entered the room and retrieved himself a glass of wine from a servant’s tray. “Donatien.” He had just taken the first sip from his wine and turned around towards the man that had greeted him, a Saxon nobleman, offering him a quick and honest smile.

“Albert, how good it is to see you.”

The two men sauntered further into the room, nonchalantly chattering about the weather and other impersonal court-related topics. “How was your audience with His Majesty?” _Good God! He had forgotten about it!_ Donatien nearly choked on his mouthful of wine and judging by the way that the Saxon was looking at him, his face stood as brightly red as he feared that it did. _Oh bon dieu, he had about forgotten it._ “Is everything alright?”

“I... missed it. The audience.”

The Saxon gasped, so as if he was honestly shocked to hear of it, “What?”

Donatien shook his head, “I do not know how it happened, I...”

“Be careful,” the other then said, his voice low and hard with seriousness as he leaned a bit closer to Donatien. “When you cross paths with him, _be most careful_.”

The warning was an unmistakable one, enough to cause his heart to somersault and his throat to tighten, “I will.” 

“Watch out for his cane,” Albert went on, speaking even lower to prevent anyone from eavesdropping, “it is known that he does not hesitate to use it on whoever angers him.”

Unable to find his voice, Donatien nodded and looked down at the content of his glass. His heart was racing so badly that he was able to feel his cheeks throbbing and while it would have been a lie if he would have said that he was not partly frightened. Oh, if Friedrich Wilhelm would beat him it would be one thing, but it were the non-violent consequences that he could suffer from that made him wish for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. If words of his failure would reach France, it could have _troublesome_ aftereffects for him and his social stand. He soon parted from Albert, as he had no interest in listening to the Saxon’s babbling while everything that his mind wanted to do was to put together scenarios of what his next meeting with the Prussian king would bring him.

As it turned out, he would not be forced to wait for long. It was the evening of the same day during whose afternoon he had been supposed to speak in an audience. Donatien was participating in a game of cards at one of the round gaming tables when a guard stepped behind him and announced that the king was requesting his presence immediately. Making sure that his mask did not slip he nodded, offered an apology to those that he had played with and put his deck down onto the table before he stood and followed the guard through the salon. “His Majesty is awaiting Your Grace in his study,” the exceptionally tall man told him after they had stepped out onto the corridor and albeit it went by unnoticed, Donatien nodded and straightened an imaginary crease out of his waistcoat. Trying to calm the racing of his heart he straightened his posture, too, as he made sure to keep up with the fast pace of the guard.

It was no more than three minutes later that the guard knocked at the door of the king’s study, but for Donatien, it very well could have been three hours. He squeezed his hands together where he held them behind his back and raised his chin a bit higher into the air. He would be able to explain - if needed, he could come up with an excuse other than the truth of having missed it.

“Enter,” the notoriously biting voice called from inside and the guard acted accordingly, opening the door and holding it open for Donatien to enter.

“Your Grace.” He nodded into the direction of the guard, who then bowed his head to the king of Prussia before he closed the door behind him and left Donatien in the sole presence of Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia.

“Come forward,” the emotionless voice spoke next and he obeyed within an instant, moving, with his hands still held behind his back, to come to stand in front of the king’s writing desk. Friedrich Wilhelm did not speak after that, instead opened the file that laid on the table in front of him and pulled out a parchment. “According to this you were due to see me this afternoon.” Donatien swallowed, unsure whether he should dare to open his mouth or not but staying silent had been the wrong decision, as Friedrich Wilhelm slammed his fist down onto the table, making his ink pots clink and Donatien flinch. “Are you trying to mock me?”, the king’s loud voice surely could have been heard down to the very end of the corridor and Donatien swallowed, trying to ignore the heat that was beginning to collect in his lower stomach.

“N-No, Your Majesty.”

“Why are you stuttering, are you a man or a fool?”

“No, Your Majesty,” he repeated, then managing to keep the shocked stutter out of his voice and he was clenching his hands so tightly together that his knuckles stood out in a stark white. _He was scared, but good God, he was so attracted to him in that moment._

“Why did stay away from the audience that I granted you.”

“I...” He probably would not have trailed off if Friedrich Wilhelm would not have risen from his chair without making a sound and began to move around the table, slow step after slow step.

“Do not make me ask you again.”

 _Oh God_. Donatien’s hands were trembling as he spoke, “I sincerily apologize for the trouble that I caused, Your Majesty, I would have come if... something would not have hindered me from doing so.”

“Hindered you?”, Friedrich Wilhelm said with a grunt and an unmistakable hint of mockery in his voice, “What was it that _hindered_ you from not paying me the due respect?”

The king did not move closer, stayed leaned against the table with his arms crossed over his chest, and yet Donatien already felt as if he was being cornered. If he would have had build up the courage to look up at Friedrich Wilhelm, he would have seen how the man’s narrowed, furious eyes were glued onto him. “I... did not feel well.”

He nearly stopped breathing when the Prussian laughed, a cold, humourless sound that resounded around the room, “ _Did not feel well_ , you are even worse of a liar than my son is.”

“I-”

“Quiet! I should have you whipped in public for the impertinence of your behaviour!”

“Your Majesty, I-” Friedrich Wilhelm’s hand had shot out and had smacked him across the face, hard, before Donatien even had the chance to flinch. It was hard enough of a hit to cause him to stumble a few steps backwards, both of his hands coming up to cover the sore side of his face without him being really aware of doing so. It burned, it stung and it could have pushed tears into his eyes - but oh, he wanted more of it. He did not voice it out, of course he did not. He may be sick, but not suicidal.

“Come forward,” the king repeated as if nothing had happened, beckoning him over with the slightest of hand movements and Donatien obeyed, his mind divided into two contradictory parst: turn and run to escape against dropping to his knees and beg for more. “Remove your hands.” Once more he obeyed, lowering his hands and merely keeping them dangling at his sides. “Tell me why you did not appear.”

“I-” That time Donatien saw the hit coming before he felt its burn on his face, and he only managed to keep himself from crying out by biting down onto the insides of his cheeks.

“You better not try and lie to me again or I shall have a messenger sent to Paris right away, do you understand me?” He nodded, unclenching his jaw only to find out that the inside of the cheek that had been hit was bleeding. “Use your voice.”

“I understand, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Now tell me, do not keep me waiting.”

“I forgot about it, Your Majesty.”

For a short second the room had stood so quiet that Donatien could hear the ticking of his pocket watch, and the silence was interrupted by the king of Prussia’s cold, snarling voice, “Repeat what you just said.”

He still was not looking up at Friedrich Wilhelm’s face, that had since flushed into the furious shade of red that he was notorious for, and he swallowed before he did as he had been ordered, “I forgot about it, Your Majesty.”

Friedrich Wilhelm pounced onto him from one second to another. The Prussian closed the gap between them, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and landed an entire array of open-handed hits on Donatien’s face, his palm landing on one before he backhanded the younger man onto the opposite cheek over and over again. “You _insolent_ , _arrogant_ , _useless_ ,” the Prussian brought out between the hits his hand landed in a non-falting rhythm, “ _disrespectful_ -”

Donatien did not think, and neither did he make a sound as Friedrich Wilhelm projected his anger onto him. His face was stinging, burning, sending waves of pain through his body and while there were helpless tears escaping him, the tension in his lower body had tenfolded. By the time that his collar was let go of again, his legs were unable to keep him upright and he thus toppled over onto the ground, only crying out for the first time when his knees connected with hard wooden floor. He scrambled to get back onto his feet, but failed and lingered in a sitting position as his body trembled from pain and _fear_ , from arousal and _need_.

It was not only him that was breathing heavily. Friedrich Wilhelm wiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand as he stared down at Donatien, but other than the younger had expected, he did not sat back down behind his desk and told him to leave. “Come forward.” As if it was his favorite command the king of Prussia repeated himself yet again and Donatien, like he had done it before, hurried to obey. If he would have been able to properly think, he would have understood that what he was experiencing was a need to _obey_ with everything he possessed. Oh, what he would have given to hear a praise from the man that had just beaten him bloody, even though Donatien did not really perceived the blood or the tears he had shed as he wiped at a corner of his mouth and raised onto very unsteady feet. A few moments of silence passed which, for the young French marquis, were more torturing than the hits that he had received and when Friedrich Wilhelm talked to him again, the tremble in his body only intensified alongside the tension in his lower stomach. That the king must have noticed the strain in his trousers, Donatien no longer doubted. “How old are you, boy?”

“N-Nineteen, Your Majesty.”

He swallowed when he felt a finger underneath his chin that slowly, almost teasingly, forced him to look up and meet the king’s gaze for the first time. There was no warmth behind the blue of Friedrich Wilhelm’s eyes, no hidden softness or character and yet Donatien found himself drawn in by them. “Your name?”

“Donatien Alphonse François, Your Majesty.”

The older man’s face pulled into a grimace, which was of no surprise to Donatien. He knew that he detested anything French but _dear God_ , how he hoped that he did not detest him. Friedrich Wilhelm continued to look down at him as if he was admiring his handiwork that he had left on Donatien’s face and the younger did not flinch and neither was he looking directly at him any longer. His eyes, however, widened and flew up to meet with Friedrich Wilhelm’s when one of the king’s hands had suddenly closed around his throat while the other roughly squeezed his throbbing cock through the fabric of his trousers once before pulling away again. “Now, _this_ certainly is interesting.” It was not only his words, but the cold and naturally dominant tone of his voice that caused a shiver to run down Donatien’s spine. “I ought to take care of that. What do you say, boy?” He did not speak, which was only partly due to the hold that Friedrich Wilhelm had on his throat, but whimpered instead. “I asked you a question. Use your voice.”

“ _Please_ , Your Majesty.”

“Down on you knees then, boy.” His knees hit the ground for the second time that evening before the king of Prussia had even finished speaking and Donatien gasped silently when he saw the smirk on Friedrich Wilhelm’s face. “Stay there.” He obeyed, of course he did, and watched how the older man walked back behind his table, pulled the chair back and sat down with almost obscenely spread legs. “Come here, boy.”

If his face would not have already been burning, it surely would have lit up when Donatien understood what he had been ordered to do and embarrassment did flare up inside of him when he moved onto all fours and crawled over the floor until he raised back onto his knees between Friedrich Wilhelm’s thighs. No further words were spoken as the older man cupped a hand against his sore cheek, obviously not caring whether it was hurting him or not, and brushed the tip of his thumb over Donatien’s bloodied lip, smearing the red liquid as if he was admiring its presence. _Dark and brooding, waiting for the right time._

“From now on you are to address me as Sir, am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Friedrich Wilhelm nodded, and Donatien’s breath hitched when he realised that the thumb was being slowly pushed between his lips and he did not think twice about it before he closed his lips around the digit and sucked in the way that he knew the other wanted him to - the grunt that he king let out told him that his intention had been right. “I was not aware that you are such a _slut_ , boy.”

Donatien whimpered and, wrongly so, tried to answer back with a “But I am not-”, a mistake that he realised when the thumb was roughly pulled away and he was backhanded across the face. The hit may not have been as hard as the prior ones had been, but it was enough to make him cry out and he resumed to whimper when a fistful of his hair was grabbed and his head titled backwards just as roughly.

“You are provoking this, are you not.”

 _Dark and brooding, waiting for the right time_. “Yes.”

Instead of hitting him again, Friedrich Wilhelm then grabbed him by the face, his fingers digging into his sore cheeks, “I am warning you, boy.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Before I decide whether I am to keep you or not,” the Prussian spoke next, his smirk just as cold as his gaze, “I want to see what your talents are.” Donatien’s breath caught in his throat as he, with his face still in an iron-like hold, watched how Friedrich Wilhelm worked on the fly of his trousers with his free hand, revealing a cock that was no less flagged than Donatien’s within his breeches. “Now, boy, please me.”

He did not need to be told twice, for he had spend too much time imagining this very moment with his own cock in his hand and he heard Friedrich Wilhelm chuckle as he nearly hasted forward to grab the king’s cock at it’s base and took him onto an immediate trip down his throat. If this would have been another time and another man he would be pleasing, Donatien would have taken his time, would have caressed the pink head and teased the sensitive slit before he would have swallowed him - but it was a test of his worth and _God_ , he wanted to pass it. So he gave his all, loosened his jaw that was already aching from the abuse it had received before and breathed through his nose to prevent himself from gagging when Friedrich Wilhelm’s cock nearly rammed against the back of his throat. It was on him to decide the pace for a good two minutes until the hand returned in his hair, grabbed onto a fistful and pushed his head down at the same time that the king’s hips snapped up.

Once it became clear to him that it was his turn to be fucked, Donatien closed his eyes, held onto Friedrich Wilhelm’s calves and relaxed his jaw as much as he possibly could. Yet he still gagged after about half a minute of his throat being ruthlessly taken and the hand in his hair pulled him off with one quick and rough motion, making him gasp and fear for the worst. “Sir-”

“I will keep you,” the king of Prussia had growled, leaning over to put their faces close to each other and claim Donatien’s lips in an equally ruthless kiss. It was a sign of claiming, hard and with a demanding tongue but Donatien never would have wished for it to be different; he only whimpered and opened his mouth. “Now finish me off like the slut you are and we will continue with your _punishment_ , boy.”

He swallowed as his heart soared. _Finally, oh God yes, finally_. “Yes Sir.”

“Such a nice mouth to fuck,” Friedrich Wilhelm groaned after Donatien had resumed to his task and the indirect praise as more heavenly than any choir of angels could have been in that moment. He hummed, to show his thanks as well as a technique and the king of Prussia twitched in his chair, his free hand coming up to stroke Donatien’s swollen and spit-slick lips where they were enclosed around his cock. “Such a good slut for me.” He casted his gaze up again and kept it locked with Friedrich Wilhelm’s as he bobbed his head for the last few times, taking the cock fully and keeping it in his throat as he _purred_ and thus pushed the king over the edge of his orgasm.

His heart soared from when he heard Friedrich Wilhelm truly moan for the first time and he swallowed, accepting everything that the king of Prussia gave him and only letting the softening cock slip from his lips after he had licked it clean. Even after he had pulled away, though, the hand in his hair did not disappear nor did in loosen the painful hold that it had and Donatien’s trousers felt so tight that he feared to burst at any moment. His face hurt, his throat felt sore and his knees definitely were not appreciating the hard wooden floor but _oh, how long he had yearned for that_.

“Rest assured that I will keep you for me,” Friedrich Wilhelm growled and Donatien whimpered in response, biting his plush bottom lip and looking up with wide, needy eyes. “You are such a _slut_ ,” the Prussian went on, tilting Donatien’s neck back into an unnatural arch, “desperate to be hurt. Are you not, boy?”

“Yes Sir,” he whispered, nearly whimpering when Friedrich Wilhelm’s thumb brushed against his lips again. He could not think, for he was simply too overwhelmed by the fact that he was exactly where he had dreamed of being even long before he had came to Potsdam and so he merely drank in the king’s touches as if he was dying of thirst.

“Now get up, boy. It is time for your punishment.” The shiver that went through him was not one of fear, but of unmasked want and desire. _Please punish me, Sir_. Donatien gasped as he was almost pulled onto his feet by the hand in his hair and he tried not to sway as he stood in an upright position, his face only inches away from that of the notorious king of Prussia. He did not know what kind of punishment Friedrich Wilhelm had in my, but God knew that he was ready to take whatever it may be and a pained whimper escaped when when the sore sides of his face were patted as if to reignite the flames of pain. “How many hours ago should you have come to me, boy?”

“I-I do not know, Sir,” Donatien whispered and gasped as Friedrich Wilhelm, still with the hold on his hair, turned him around to where a grandfather clock was standing.

“I am sure that you can read the time, boy.”

“Yes Sir.”

“So,” the Prussian spoke into the air next to Donatien’s ear as he forced the young man to look at the clock, the tone of his voice sending a shiver down Donatien’s back, “how long did you keep me waiting, boy?”

 _His audience had been set for four sharp, so..._ “Three hours, Sir.”

He was spun back around and his breath caught in his throat as Friedrich Wilhelm’s eyes pierced into him. “How old are you?” That it was a repetition of the question he had already answered earlier, Donatien really perceive in that moment.

“Nineteen, Sir.”

The king of Prussia made an approving sound, “And what is three times nineteen, boy?”

“Uh... fifty seven, Sir?”

“Is that an answer or a question.”

He swallowed, “An answer, Sir.”

“Then you shall receive fifty seven strokes with the cane to ensure that you will not make the same mistake again.”

“What?” The question had escaped him before Donatien could have considered whether it was a good or a bad thing, and he was rewarded with another slap on the face.

“You would be wise to pay me the due respect, _slut_ , or I shall make sure that you will not be able to show your face in public for a month.”

He knew that Friedrich Wilhelm was not bluffing. “I am sorry, Sir,” he whispered and when one of his cheeks was caressed instead of beaten, he was nearly ready to burst into tears again.

“I always had a thing for making pretty little boys cry,” the king of Prussia spoke with an equally low voice, “but you are already my favourite.” A finger brushed over his lips once more, “So responsive and so very eager for my touches...” Donatien’s breath hitched and his eyes fluttered close, even if he would have used his words he could not have sounded any more needy and _submissive_ than he already was. Oh, his face would surely be bruised by the next day! He gasped when he was spun around and found his back pressed against Friedrich Wilhelm’s chest for no longer than a second before his own chest connected with the top of the table, hard enough to knock the air from his lunges with an even louder gasp. “Which makes me want to punish you even more, boy.”

“Please...”

The sleek wood of the table felt cold against his burning cheek and he whimpered as the fist in his hair returned, “Your manners, boy. I will not tell you again. The next time that you fail to address me properly I will double your punishment, am I being clear?”

“Yes Sir,” he whispered while keeping his eyes closed, “I am sorry, Sir.”

“Good boy.” Donatien’s heart not only somersaulted from the praise he got to hear for the first time, but mostly due to the fact that Friedrich Wilhelm’s fingers were working on the fly of his trousers and the tremble in his body went not unnoticed, of course it did not. “You did not think that I would cane you over your trousers, did you? No, a naughtly little slut like you will get his _naked_ ,” with that Donatien’s trousers and undergarnments were pulled down to his knees with two rough tugs, “backside caned.”

If his face would not have already been burning from the hits, it surely would have stood in a bright red right then. _Oh God, yes please._ “Sir...”

Friedrich Wilhelm chuckled. It, as always, was without any warmth but his hand was as soft as it probably could have been when he ran it over Donatien’s exposed backside while opening a drawer of his writing desk with the other hand. _Dark and brooding, waiting for the right time._ “Hold onto the edge of the table, boy.”

“Yes Sir.” Donatien obeyed and reached out with his hands until his fingers closed around the edge of the wooden table top, his body trembling so fiercely that he feared it to cause the ink pots to rattle and spill their contents.

“I will start over if you let go, do you understand? Spread your legs a bit more, boy.”

“Yes Sir.” He obeyed once again and closed his eyes anew when Friedrich Wilhelm’s hand continued to rest on his backside for a little longer, his fingers tapping on Donatien’s flesh as if to warn him about what was yet to come before they disappeared. Keeping his eyes closed, Donatien listened how the king of Prussia retreated and put a few steps’ distance between them and he flinched, involuntarily so, when he felt just the tip of the cane on his naked skin. “I do not believe that I have to remind you to keep still.”

“No Sir.”

While goosebumps had since broken out over his exposed skin, he did not shiver from the cold air when Friedrich Wilhelm spoke to him. “Let us see whether you can be a good little slut for me or not.”

“Yes Sir,” Donatien whispered, his chest clenching from the raw _need_ of getting to hear those praises more often. “I want to be a... a good little slut for you, Sir.”

The Prussian chuckled and ran the tip of the cane over the crease of Donatien’s ass until it reached the young frenchman’s scrotum, where it lingered while the king talken on with a flat voice, “If you want to be a good little slut for me,” he tapped the cane against the sensitive skin once, making Donatien gasp and flinch, “I need to train you first.”

The first hit with the cane had not even fallen and Donatien was already grappling with himself to not let go of the table’s edge, “Yes Sir.”

Another tap against his scrotum followed, “How long are you supposed to be staying in Potsdam, boy.”

“U-Until the end of next week, Sir,” Donatien whispered, his eyes still not opened for he feared that, whatever he would see, would be enough to cause him to crash down.

“I will send a word to France that there are... _duties_ you need to fulfill at my court.”

It was clear that Friedrich Wilhelm was not accepting any backtalk and albeit the prospect of not getting to see his mother as soon as Donatien had been certain he would was sobering, he did not waste more than a second over it, “Yes Sir.”

“I fear that it will be a very painful time for you, boy.”

Donatien’s breath hitched, and he kept the air in his lungs as the cane disappeared from his scrotum and instead pushed his shirt further up his back to ensure that it will not come in between the cane and his unprotected backside. “Yes Sir.”

“Well,” Friedrich Wilhelm chuckled, “I am not remorseful about it at all.” Donatien could hear that the Prussian was getting himself into position, moving a bit to his left as he tapped the cane onto the fleshier part of his backside a bit harder. “I want you to count them, boy.”

“Yes Sir.” While he was certain that he had mentally prepared himself just well enough, Donatien still gasped from both shock and pain when the thin stick whipped across his backside with a sharp _thwick!_ “One.”

The next hit came even harder and faster that the first one had and he bucked, gasping once more. “Your _manners_ , boy.”

“One, Sir,” he corrected himself, squeezing his eyes shut. He had only received two strokes, but those strokes had left burning stripes on his skin that caused heat to collect in his backside as much as in his lower stomach. _Good God_.

“We will start over, boy.”

“Yes Sir.” _Thwick!_ “One, Sir.” _Snick!_ A gasp, then, “Two, Sir.” _Whack!_ “Three, Sir.”

“Yes, that is how a good boy is supposed to count.”

“Thank you, Sir.” _Thwack!_ Donatien’s sharp intake of breath was followed by a gasped “Four, Sir,” and he was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer strength that Friedrich Wilhelm was hitting him with. Suddenly, the vague memories of the thrashings that his father had put onto him were nothing in comparison. As overwhelmed as he was by the strength that Friedrich Wilhelm used, it was the pain that eventually robbed him of his breath. He had not expected for it to feel like a caress, of course he had not, but the bright burn from each and every line that was laid onto his naked skin with the most of precision was more than Donatien had expected to feel. _He loved it_ , but said liking did not prevent his voice from quivering by the time the thin cane landed on his backside for the tenth time, leaving a line of fire on the sensitive skin of his upper thighs. “Te-en, Sir.”

Not yet as close to tears as he could have been, and probably as close as the king of Prussia wanted him to be, Donatien was breathing heavily in order to keep his composure somewhat steady at least. Friedrich Wilhelm grunted, a sound that could have been one of satisfaction or discontentment alike, and traced the lines he had already left with all but gentle fingers, making the younger man gasp and buck from the rough motion that Friedrich Wilhelm touched his skin with. “You do have a nice ass, boy.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Fourty seven more strokes to go, boy.”

“Yes Sir.”

The Prussian made the same grunted sound as he tapped the cane onto Donatien’s ass that he had already hit once before, “Do continue to count them.”

“Yes Sir.”

 _Thwick!_ “Eleven, Sir.” Donatien did not know how much time went by in which nothing but the sharp sound of the cane cutting through the air, his sharp intakes of breath and gasped counting filled the room until they reached the end of the next set of ten. “Tw-Twenty, Sir.” He had since stopped feeling the burn of each individual hit, the pain instead having become an increasing throbbing one that clouded his head, brought tears into his eyes and tension into his lower stomach. The cool surface of the table not only stood in a stark contrast against his sore cheek, but against his cock as well, latter which was stirring in interest about what he was going through.

“You can take more than I expected you to, boy.” Friedrich Wilhelm repeated the action of appreciating his handiwork by touching the swollen welts on Donatien’s backside, “But you are not yet crying.”

“S-Sir, I-”

Donatien was cut off when the cane, once more and a bit out of the blue, snapped down and drew a perfectly parallel line onto his already sore backside. “I will make you cry, boy, be assured of that.”

As if Friedrich Wilhelm’s words had made him more sensitive, Donatien was no longer able to keep himself from crying out into where he was pressing his face into his upper arm to silence the sounds he made. _He wanted to make him proud by staying as silent as he could, by keeping himself from crying out loud for as long as he could._ Donatien broke at the twenty-eighth stroke, giving in to his tears with a sobbed “Twe-enty e-eight, S-Sir” and a tremble that seemed to shake the entire table.

Friedrich Wilhelm paused the onslaught yet again to lay a hand onto the small of Donatien’s back. It was a small gesture, a touch that lingered for no longer than a handful of seconds and yet it was more than Donatien had expected to get from the cold-hearted man that was feared throughout Europe and to which he, somehow, had lost himself to. It helped him to collect himself enough for his sobs to not grow any stronger - the flow of his tears uninterrupted. He had never felt like this before, carried away by a tidal wave of pain, arousal and utter submission. It may have been overwhelming and the pain may have been more intense that Donatien had been prepared for, but it was more than he had ever expected for his desires to be fulfilled. “Twenty nine more to go, boy.”

He let out a sound that stood somewhere between a gasp and a sob, “Ye-es Sir,” and squeezed his eyes shut when the hand withdrew from the small of his back.

“Brace yourself.”

He tried, oh he tried tried to brace himself but the short break had not done his backside any favour and the next hit with the cane, which crossed most of the prior welts on his tormented skin, it were his sobs that resounded through the room once again. Donatien struggled to keep up with counting the hits as Friedrich Wilhelm was laying them down even faster than he had done it before, and it was only with the greatest of troubles that he managed to count to forty. “F-Fo-orty, S-Si-ir.” He was certain that the last few hits had caused his skin to break at a point, for he was certain that there were a few droplets of blood dripping down his swollen skin.

As Friedrich Wilhelm did it after every set of ten, he pulled the cane away and took a closer look at his handiwork. If Donatien would not have been utterly overwhelmed with what was happening to him and his body, he surely would have been able to hear the king of Prussia breathing heavily, which was only partly due to the exhaustion that the caning brought him, and he surely would have been startled when there were two hands on him, one on his abused backside while the other rested in the small of his back. “Good boy.”

Oh, the sob that escaped him was unmistakably one of relief and he turned his head to be able to look at Friedrich Wilhelm from over his shoulder, “T-Thank you, Sir.”

The Prussian did not quite smile, but the creases on his face as well as his eyes did appear a bit softer than they had been before. The pain was nearly too much for him to bear, but good God, there surely had not been a time where he had ever been more turned on than he was in that moment. “I have a proposition to make to you, boy. Are you listening?”

Donatien nodded, but answered like he knew it was demanded of him despite his sobbing, “Ye-es Sir.”

“Since you have taken those forty hits with the cane so well, I will finish the last seventeen with my hand - _if_ you agree that I shall put seventeen with the cane onto you by this time tomorrow.”

He did not even take time to think about the proposal but agreed with another “Y-Yes Sir”, as he had strong doubts that he would be able to withstand any more hits with the thin stick. In the hand of Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia it was definitely a torture device - but Donatien was already yearning to feel it again once he would be healed. _Dark and brooding, waiting for the right time._

“Good.” He hid his face in his arm once again as he heard how Friedrich Wilhelm got into position, moving further to his left and keeping a hand in the small of his back while he rested his right Donatien’s backside for a few moments. “Seventeen with my hand it is, boy. You do not have to count them.”

A sniffle, “Yes Sir.” As he was more familiar with the feeling of being spanked by hand, the burn that Friedrich Wilhelm’s hand caused did not surprise him. It was less intense and more superficial than the cane, leaving a burn rather than a sharp sting, but over the marks that had been left by the cane it hurt more than enough. While the pain of the cane had pushed Donatien further into submission than he had ever been, being spanked bare-handed was an entirely different thing.

To feel Friedrich Wilhelm’s left hand in the small of his back, being pushed down onto the table while the other swiftly alternated between his backside cheeks, hitting him with enough force to send him into the table and to cause the table to scrape a few inches over the floor. Donatien was still crying, but his sobs had since began to blur together with wanton little moans that escaped him every time that he would push his hips back for another hit. “Sir,” he half sobbed, half moaned and Friedrich Wilhelm grunted as he hit him over and over again. Donatien was not keeping count of the times that the king of Prussia’s hands fell but he yet was certain that, by the time Friedrich Wilhelm stopped, he had been hit more than seventeen times. They were both breathing heavily when Donatien’s backside was rubbed.

“Such a good little slut you are, boy.”

“S-Sir...”

He froze when he felt two of Friedrich Wilhelm’s fingers dipping into the crease of his ass, their intention as clear as day. “Yes, boy?”

The fingers moved further down between his cheeks and Donatien gasped, his hips twitching, “Sir, I-”

“Do not tell me that no one has ever touched you there, boy. You put on too much of a show, swaying your pretty little ass and begging to be touched like the slut you are.” He expected the fingers to push into him, but to his surprise, Friedrich Wilhelm pulled them away rather abruptly to open a drawer of the writing desk that Donatien was still bend over. A bit of rumaging later, and Donatien’s eyes flew open at the same time that he heard the _plop_ of a vial being uncorked. “How many have gotten to fuck you before, hm?”, Friedrich Wilhelm said as he drove his fingers, then slick with oil, between Donatien’s sore backside cheeks again. “How many, boy.”

“Uh... a-about eight, Sir?”

“ _Slut!_ ” The two fingers pushed into him at the same time that Friedrich Wilhelm’s free hand landed on his ass with a sharp smack, though it, within a split second, was in the small of Donatien’s back again to immobilize his hips. There was no mistaking in the fact that the king of Prussia wanted to fuck him and with his mind fully pushed into submission, Donatien appreciated it, merely gasping and squeezing the last few tears out of his eyes as the fingers scissored him open before searching for and soon finding his sensitive spot. “From now on,” Friedrich Wilhelm went on, “it will be no one but me who is allowed to touch you boy, do you understand?”

Donatien whimpered and bit his lip before he answered, “Yes Sir.”

“If I do find out that you let anyone else touch you,” the Prussian said while pressing down and rubbing quick circles on Donatien’s sensitive spot, “you will be punished and I can assure you that you will not like it, boy. Am I being understood?”

“Yes Sir,” the young Frenchman whimpered, his breath hitching as the tension in his lower stomach grew to a tenfold and he resumed to bite down hard onto his lip.

“I _will_ punish you in public if you should not obey.” It did all but scare Donatien, if he would have been honest, he would have admitted that he liked the idea. His body spoke of his lack of aversion without him having to open his mouth, though he only became aware of it when Friedrich Wilhelm chuckled while his fingers worked continuously. “You are something else, boy, I must tell you that. Maybe I ought to whip you during a meeting of my Tabakskollegium. I am certain that they would love to watch you.”

 _Oh good God, oh God!_ The heat that had collected in his lower stomach had intensified together with the tension and Donatien knew that he was close. “Si-ir...”

“You would like that, would you not, boy? Maybe I should fuck you in front of them as well.”

“Sir, I-”

“You would love that, would you not, you naughty little slut? For them all to know that you are mine.”

“I would, Sir, oh...”

“Yes, I am certain that you will look good carrying the title of the royal slut of Prussia.” _Good God, good, good God._ Donatien’s hands were trembling where they still held onto the edge of the table, his knuckles a stark white and his fingers hurting from the strain. “What do you say, boy?”

“Yes Sir,” he answered with a whisper, his voice too unsteady for him to speak properly and if Friedrich Wilhelm would not have held him down onto the table, he surely would have bucked into the air when the king of Prussia fell into a ruthless rhythm of fucking him in earnest. Donatien may not have seen himself as a slut, but the sounds he let out definitely mirrored those that his father’s many mistresses had always made and he would have liked to reach down for his leaking cock, but he did not dare to let go of the table. _He had been ordered to hold on_. So instead of letting go he tried to move his hips back onto Friedrich Wilhelm’s fingers, despite the hand that was holding him down.

The king of Prussia noticed that as well and chuckled as he withdrew his fingers with an obscene squelch, making Donatien gasp and whine, his muscle clenching around nothing. “You will come from my fingers or you will not come at all, boy. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir, yes Sir,” he whined breathily, “ _please_ , I-”

“Now hush, they do not need to hear you any more than they already have.”

“Yes Sir.”

Donatien tried to stay silent, but could not prevent the broken moan that rippled through him when the fingers slipped inside again and he gasped when Friedrich Wilhelm suddenly leaned over to speak into his ear, “I will keep you, boy, do you hear me? I will keep your pretty little ass and your mouth for me alone, do you understand?” Together with the work of the fingers inside of him, Donatien felt himself rapidly approaching the peak of his orgasm when those words were said to him.

“Yes Sir,” he whispered, turning his head as much as he only could to catch a glimpse of the Prussian who then burried his hand in his hair once more, tugging at it as hard as he had done it before.

“And if I find out that you allowed another to touch you I will whip you until you cannot sit down for a month, am I being clear? You will be mine and mine only.”

Donatien’s hips were then twitching eratically by then and his entire body seemed to be on fire from the mixture or arousal and utter pain, both of which were just what he had hoped to get. “Sir-”

“ _Am I being clear?_ ”

“Yes Sir, very clear,” he cried out and Friedrich Wilhelm, seemingly satisfied with the answer, straightened again. Donatien did not last for more than a few moments before he came, hard enough for his vision to black out and his breath to catch in his throat. His body went slack, overwhelmed by the force with which the orgasm had rippled through him.

“Good boy.” He barely heard the praise over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, and continued to stay, gasping for air, bend over the table as Friedrich Wilhelm cleaned his fingers with a handkerchief, “You may remove your hands and stand up.” It took Donatien a few seconds to process what he had heard, and once he did, he slowly loosened his fingers from around the wooden and raised onto his feet, wincing at the pain that shot through him when the skin of his backside was pulled tight. Friedrich Wilhelm had stepped back to be able to watch him from a distance and the smirk that made it impossible for Donatien to look at him. “Get those trousers back on, boy.”

He swallowed hard, and whispered a “Yes Sir” as he bend down to reach for his trousers, wincing as he, very gingerly, pulled the thin fabric of his underwear over his abused thighs and ass. That he was still bleeding a bit he noticed as soon as the fabric seemed to stick to a few parts of his backside, and Donatien kept his gaze firmly on the ground when he fixed his breeches into position as well. His fingers were trembling as he and with the waves of his orgasm ebbing away, he felt pain in its entity again. It was nearly enough to have him sway on his feet and he held onto the edge of the table for a second time that evening, albeit for an entirely different reason.

He did not lift his gaze when the king of Prussia moved to stand in front of him, though obeyed when he was told to do so. _Of course he obeyed_. “Look at me, boy.” Friedrich Wilhelm put a finger under his chin to prevent him from looking away. “You did good.”

“Thank you Sir,” he whispered, wincing when Friedrich Wilhelm’s other hand inspected his face. “It will bruise. Make sure that you will cover it with enough powder.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good.” The Prussian nodded, “You may leave then, boy.”

Donatien swallowed hard, feeling as if he was about to burst into tears once again and his voice was barely above a whisper as he answered with the demanded “Yes Sir” and turned around, squeezing his eyes shut at the pain that each and every single step caused him.

“Donatien.” With his hand already on the handle of the door, he turned around. “I will see you tomorrow.” Friedrich Wilhelm was wiping the top of the table as Donatien turned around to face him, and the Prussian’s eyes were a bit less cold as they met with his.

“Yes Sir, I will be there.”

“I know that you will.”

When he closed the door of the king’s study behind him, Donatien, for a short moment, feared that he would faint. _He got beaten, caned and fingerfucked by Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia._ He gasped and leaned against the wall to steady himself. Thankfully, the corridor was empty and if he would not have been so utterly overwhelmed, he would have wondered as for why there was no guard present. Keeping his gaze down and his pace as fast as possible, Donatien hurried to get back to his room and it was only when he was in the privacy of his four walls that another, desperate sob escaped him.

He did not know as for why he was crying, whether it was due to the pain, the aftermath of his orgasm or a combination of both. He was not unhappy or sad - in fact he was more satisfied than he had ever been before and yet his sobs did not cease. They did not cease as he undressed himself, starting by the waistcoat that had been ruined by his own release, and neither did they stop when Donatien crawled onto the bed and burried his face in the pillow. His entire face burned and stung, but compared to the pain in his backside it was nothing and so he rather kept his face hidden than do so much as think about rolling over onto his back. He was shivering from the cool air that dominated the room; the fireplaces of the guest rooms would only be heated during the late hours of the evening and since he had laid down without having put any piece of clothing on, he was fully exposed to the cold. Despite the cold and despite the pain that had, figuratively speaking, set his body on fire, however, it did not take long until Donatien eventually fell into a light slumber.

His apparent rest was short lived, disturbed after what could have been three minutes or thirty by the sound of rapid knocking on the door and Donatien’s head shot up as he blinked groggily. “Who is it,” he mumbled, hopefully loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to perceive it. If it was Albert, he would send him away. Firmly so.

“His Majesty the king of Prussia, Your Grace.”

“What?”

“His Majesty has demanded to see you, Your Grace.”

Donatien still had not moved from where he had propped himself up onto his elbows, “Where?” He let out a quite unmaly squeak when the door was opened without another word and he tried to scramble onto his feet, but failed to do so before Friedrich Wilhelm was standing at the foot of his bed. “S-Sir...”

“Hush,” the Prussian interrupted him, “lie down.” Donatien obeyed within an instant, lying back down onto his stomach as the king moved around the bed and whistled through his teeth. “It seems that your ass will be more bruised than I thought it would be.” He opened his mouth to answer, but the words died on his tongue when the mattress dipped from Friedrich Wilhelm sitting down on the bed beside him. There were fingers on his ass again though other than before, the Prussian’s fingers were rather gentle and Donatien gasped in surprise. “I brought a simple salve.”

“Sir?”

“I do not want your pretty ass to end up scarred, boy,” Friedrich Wilhelm said with a chuckle and held out the bottle that he had brought with him before he unscrewed it. “It would be a shame.” The young frenchman nearly froze when he felt those gentle fingers spreading the salve over his swollen and sore skin. “Good boy,” he was praised after a few moments and he could not help but whimper at the praise.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Already so well behaved, and I was certain that your behaviour would be a reason to punish you a few more times.”

“Maybe it will be, Sir.”

His reply not only stunned himself, but Friedrich Wilhelm too. “You are unbelievable,” the older man snorted, drawing a gasp from the younger when he pinched one of his backside cheeks. “I want you to take tomorrow off, boy. Stay in bed and heal.”

Donatien just barely hindered himself from going against Friedrich Wilhelm’s order by raising onto his elbows to be able to look at him, “But Sir, you said that-”

“I know what I said, boy, and there are few things that I would like to do more than bend you over tomorrow,” another blotch of salve was put down onto his backside, “but you are wounded, and I am no monster. And since I will keep you at my court for now postponing your punishment will not be a problem.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Donatien expected another praise, but certainly not for Friedrich Wilhelm to kiss the top of his head. It should not have been much, considering that he had already fucked him, but Donatien knew that _a kiss_ from Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia was even more unexpected than to be fucked by him. “Good boy.” He did not really have the time to react before he was covered with the blanket that he had kicked down. “Stay under them, I do not want you to catch a cold.”

“Yes Sir.”

Friedrich Wilhelm nodded and stood, “I will come to see you tomorrow and you better not be out of bed when I do so.”

“Yes Sir.”

Donatien was looked at for a bit longer and he knew that the king’s gaze had been a bit softer when it had been directed at him, only to harden when he averted it. Neither of them spoke again before Friedrich Wilhelm strode off and Donatien watched him go as much as he could without leaving the position that he had been ordered to stay in, unable to wrap his head around the turn that his life had taken in the course of the last hour.

 _Fin_.


End file.
